AGAINST THE ODDS:WEARING A scruffy Everton jersey from the mid-80s, complete with Hafnia logo, Vinny Fitzpatrick stood atop the steps of Wembley Park tube station on Saturday, raised his arms skywards and let rip an almighty bellow: "Ev-er-ton, Ev-er-ton, Ev-er-ton".

He had just emerged, blinking, into the sunlight and the sight of Wembley Way, the dramatic arch over the new, space-age stadium, the occasion of FA Cup final day, had rammed home with all the emotional force of a Bob Latchford thunderbolt.

“Ev-er-ton, Ev-er-ton, Ev-er-ton,” he continued to bellow as he walked down the steps, an unlikely spearhead of a legion of blue.

With Vinny on the march with “Moyesey’s Army” was Brennie, the youngest and most excitable member of the Tuesday Night Club, who’d won the draw for the second Cup final ticket and had almost wet himself with excitement, even though he was a big Man United fan.

All around them was a scurrying, smiling sea of royal blue jerseys, most emblazoned with Everton’s sponsor Chang, not the Samsung of Chelsea, Vinny noted.

Equally satisfying was the age profile of the supporters. He expected coltish youths, but there were lots of aul’ fellas like him, some even older, and there was also, he observed approvingly, a bevy of fetching females, mostly with Scouse accents.

As he led his newly-formed branch of the David Moyes Appreciation Society to the head of Wembley Way, Vinny thought how great it was to have a team with the perfect number of syllables for the Here We Go chant, unlike Chelsea.

By now, the sweat was dripping down Vinny’s brow and the sun was burning hard on his exposed pink scalp.

His under-arms were glistening and he chided himself for not having worn shorts, as his jeans were already stuck fast to his backside – there would, he suspected, be lavish use of vaseline before the day’s end.

Accessing a ground which held 90,000 fans was simpler than getting into Dalymount, thought Vinny as he and Brennie took their pitch on level one of the East Stand, close to the corner flag.

It was two o’clock and the Everton end was filling up fast, unlike the vast expanse of empty red seats opposite, which were set aside for Chelsea fans.

“The Cup final doesn’t matter to them as much any more. But it matters to us though,” thought Vinny as he looked around the vast battalions of Everton blue.

There were fellows wearing blue shirts with the names of Goodison Park legends printed on the back: Ball and Kendall, Southall and Sharp, Royle and Latchford.

High above, banners draped from an upper tier. “Not Bad For A Little Club”, was one, a pointed reference to the hated Rafa Benitez, while another dig at the loathed Liverpool was evident in the banner “The City’s All Yours, ’Cos We’re All At Wembley”.

But it was the chanting, the songs, the music, which lifted Vinny’s heart higher than the 133-metre arch which laced the stadium.

“Tell me Ma, me Ma; we don’t want water, no tea; we’re going to Wembley; tell me Ma, me Ma,” and his favourite: “And it’s Ev-er-ton, Ev-er-ton FC; we’re by far the greatest team, the world has ever seen, and it’s Ev-er-ton . . .”

And then, half an hour before kick-off, came the moment when the roof almost lifted from the East Stand, if it hadn’t already been peeled back for the day.

It came when the stadium PA played the theme song from Z Cars, the Everton anthem. As one, the Everton legions belted out the la-la-las with a frightening fervour.

Vinny, who was old enough to have seen Z Cars on the telly when Stratford Johns and Frank Windsor fought against evil in the fictional town of Newtown, felt the tears in his eyes as he joined. “If only my Da could be here for this,” he thought.

When the gladiators emerged from the dressing-rooms, the Everton supporters unleashed a guttural roar not heard since the final of ’95.

“You can’t lose with this lot behind you,” said Brennie, whose conversion to blue from red had much to do with the presence of a leggy blonde from Bootle called Janine in the seat alongside.

Describing herself as a glamorous gran, Janine had taken a shine to little Brennie and his boyish smile. “Have you ever been to The Grafton nightclub?” she asked suggestively.

“I have,” said Brennie. “It’s the only place where the bouncers kick you in, not out.”

With that Janine clutched Brennie to her ample chest and plonked a smacker on his head. “You’ll do for me love,” she said.

Vinny had no time for such distractions. His mind was focused on giving every ounce of support he could for his beloved men in blue. Being here was at the very core of his existence; it made him what he was. Without Everton, his life lacked a cause.

His torch for the Toffees had been passed on to him by his old man, Finbarr; just as those around him had blue in their genes from birth, too. On this day, they were united as one great big football family.

The decibel levels soared as the game began and, incredibly, they went stratospheric after just 26 seconds when Louis Saha scored. Could this day in blue heaven get any better?

Over seven hours later, long after Brennie had disentangled himself from Janine and the FA Cup was on its way back to Chelsea, Vinny overheard a lady capturing the essence of an unforgettable day as the 9.10 from Heathrow touched down in Dublin.

“It cost me €1,000 for the day-trip but it was worth every penny. I’d do it again tomorrow. I was so proud of them.”

Not for the first time, Vinny felt a lump in his throat.

As the plane docked and the seat-belt signs went out, he was unable to control himself. He stood up in the aisle and belted out the day's overriding anthem one more time: "We're on the march with Moyesey's Army; we're all off to Wem-bl-ey".

The response was overwhelming. Tired, beaten but unbowed, the dozens of Evertonians on board, from those in first class to the lads with the Jaffa cakes down the back, managed one last hurrah.

“And we’ll really shake them up when we win the FA Cup, ’cos Everton are the greatest football team. We’re on the march . . .’

Bets of the Week

1pt e/w: Masterofthehorse in Epsom Derby (14/1, William Hill)

3pt win: Bulgaria to beat Ireland (11/10, Boylesports)

Vinny's Bismarck

1pt Lay: Meath to beat Dublin in Munster Senior Football Championship (5/2, Paddy Power, liability 2.5pts)